Suckered For Love
by Voldemort Perfumes
Summary: This be a tale of bawdiness, action as well, cursing, swords, and happy ends. So ye be warned, read on only if you dare. Femmeslash, some het pairings, and maybe a three-way if the story continues. Set in medieval times. 3rd Person POV.


**"Suckered For Love"**

* * *

**Disclaimer:**** Eh, I definitely don't own Twilight, but I'm sure you smart people know that. I just have these passing moods where I really like to torture certain characters, get them off...and well be a little morbid with my own sense of humor. Don't we all? Oh, and Happy Saint Valentine's Day!**

**Note:**** "On the morrow" means tomorrow. A wench is…well I think you might know what a wench is. If not (Google). A solar is the room at the top of a tower that gets a lot of light. The Tower of London is a prison, and the Tower Green is where the executions were generally carried out. And I think that about does it for definitions. (And I know Northumberland is way north, and they prolly wouldn't bother bringin' a prisoner all the way down to London to dispatch of them. So for the sake of some accuracy, the Duke and the Duchess were in London at the time he had her arrested. Yeah? Hopefully that works for you lot). Also, a dirk is a short dagger, and to dirk someone is to stab them.**

**_"This be a tale of bawdiness, action as well,_**

**_cursing, swords,_**

**_and happy ends._**

**_So ye be warned,_**

**_read on only if you dare."_**

**~Main Players~**

**The Scribe:**** Edward**

**The Duchess:**** Bella**

**The Knight:**** Jasper**

**The Maid:**** Alice**

**The Wood-Gatherer:**** Emmett**

**The Wench:**** Rosalie**

* * *

_~Holding Cell, Tower of London, London.~_

She stared desolately out the window as the sun died down, falling below the horizon line as the grey sky dissipated into inky nightfall. Yet another night spent waiting to die. It was not a thought Isabella Percy, née Swan, particularly relished. Each day was passed in the same way, staring at the wall across from her with the constant reminders. Tally marks and names carved into the stone; prisoners who'd already met their unfortunate end. So far she'd not carried on that tradition, but it was weighing on her mind, wanting to leave some sort of legacy behind. To not fade into the recesses of history, just another _woman_ who hadn't mattered a wink in the scheme of things.

But she was being a bit feministic. She _was_ just a woman, and maybe such attitudes had been her eventual undoing? Bella could see that those choices, that hatred she harboured at being thought of as weak, as men's _property_ had made her the way she was, had made her do some of the things she'd done. However, even with that knowledge, she could hardly regret some things, most importantly her. But it would not be best dwell on such things now.

The scribe would be coming tonight, to draft her tale onto parchment. She had no reason to hope that this paper would last forever, but at least she was trying to make her mark on history. It was a right sight better than most of her sex, content to be submissive and forever beneath the oppressive toe of man.

The last vestiges of the sunlight died along with her anger. No, she mused, best not to get frustrated right away.

After all, it would look so much better on paper.

Isabella lay down on the lowly pallet that was her bed these days, and couldn't help but feel nostalgic. _They'd only used the bed once, but oh what fun that had been...._ She could still hear the soft mewls of pleasure ringing in her ears, and Bella inhaled deeply to steady herself. Soon, she reminded herself. Soon it'll all be over, and that won't hurt anymore. I swear it.

She stood up for a quick walk around the tiny holding cell, pacing back and forth as she tried to clear her mind of all thought. It would be best to start off on a blank slate, or at least that seemed like the reasonable thing to do.

* * *

A little after the torches had been lit, around the time when the guard changed their shifts, the scribe came to call on her. Kent, the bailiff led him up to Isabella's cell, and unlocked it to let him in. She was sitting on the bed again now, waiting for him. Kent had another chair brought for the scribe to sit upon, and then he left, locking the door behind him. The scribe had two hours, and that was all. Isabella felt it prudent to begin at once.

"So Scribe, what be your name?"

"Edward Cullen, if it pleases your Grace," the Scribe answered dutifully, his green eyes affixed to her as he took his seat. He seemed almost regretful when he had to lean down and ferret around his bag for the writing utensils, and she found this somewhat normal. Isabella was not vain, but she was used to the attention she seemed to get from men. Unusual however, was her attention towards him. Isabella hadn't ever really been...attracted to a man before. Merely her own sex, which were rightfully dubbed the "fairer."

"Mister Cullen, I assume you know the charges brought against my person by my husband the Duke," Isabella inquired, her unmerciful eyes raking him over summarily. She took in the unruly bronze-hair, verdant green irises, a curiously strong jaw, and the rather charming crooked bent to his lips when he made an effort to smile. Yes, Mister Cullen was unignorably handsome for a man.

"Yes, his Grace, Northumberland, hath stated your...discretions. Infidelity, I believe, and unholy acts of the flesh. Am I quite right?" Edward checked. Isabella nodded.

"So how long have you shown interest in your own kind?" Edward added, his eyes not condemning, but rather pitying. She hated that he had any pity for her, she didn't want it. She just wanted him to write his piece on her and get the hell out. That was all she required from him, lovely as he undoubtedly was.

"I think I must've always, but then again, before her, I had no idea. I loved no one before her, and so far none after," Isabella remarked quietly, seemingly in another place as she answered. Her face was pensive, but her eyes belied her feelings. She was very much upset, and perhaps a little jaded.

"When did you meet her?"

"Oh, well I noticed her before I ever 'met' her, but if that's indeed what you wish to know, I met her one day when she was given the duty of bringing me my tea in the solar. I was alone then, as most often it was --- living so far North did not warrant many visitors --- and my usual tea girl was otherwise preoccupied, I suppose. I'd always thought she was a pretty little snippet of a girl, and heartbreakingly graceful. I myself am not so elegant on my feet, so I was apt to notice her motion.

"She was such a sweet thing, so nervous about serving me incorrectly. I didn't even mention that she put not enough sugar in my brew; I didn't want her to fret about such trivial matters. I liked her from that first day, and so I pursued her in my own way. I asked my husband if she might be one of my ladies, and he consented, knowing naught of my inner plans. He always was a right dolt, Henry Percy. I never wanted to marry him, but now I can bear that time because it brought me to her."

Edward noted the change in her expression. It was wistful, and the faint smile on her face only served to accentuate her beauty. He knew verily that he would not be able to get Lady Isabella out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. She was vision, and every time he looked at her, it seemed increasingly terrible that she should have to die.

Pictures ran through her mind now, tangling limbs and exploring one another...sounds of crying and gasping and moaning seemed to stir, and Isabella almost swore she was back there again, experiencing it all over. She shut her eyes, not willing to let go of the memories, but she spoke still.

"I...we loved each other one night. It was a while ago. I was so jealous that night. I'd seen her with our best young knight, rutting like stags out in the stable. I knew she liked him, but I...I was so greedy, Mister Cullen. I just had to have her for myself, at least once. Something to remember her by when she inevitably left me for him. After that night I let them run off together, and I got lax and despondent. I refused to share my husband's bed, and one night I couldn't take it anymore. I confessed what I did, which led me here. But I must have you know that not for anything would I trade that night and what the two of us shared together...."

* * *

_~Duchess Isabella's chamber, Alnwick Castle, Northumberland.~_

"I watched you riding him. You enjoyed it didn't you?" she accused, reaching down to push two fingers inside of her lover's dripping cunt. The girl's eyes fluttered shut, and she barely nodded, her hips bucking up against the sudden intrusion, needing friction.

"You're still so tight...I bet he stretched you wide open, didn't he? I wonder if I could..." Isabella pondered aloud, smirking as she added a third finger, growing a little hot-and-bothered herself by the pure heat of the flesh wrapped around her fingers, and the feeling of them sliding deeper inside each time her lover bucked her hips upward. In the name of all things holy....

Withdrawing her fingers, she listened to Alice moaning with the loss of contact, and got a perverse of pleasure from it.

"Not yet, my pet. You've been very naughty, and you'll need to serve your Mistress first. You do want to make Mistress happy, do you not?"

"Yes, I do," the girl answered, her sky-blue eyes peering up devotedly at Isabella as she did so. Isabella smiled, and then her plans began to solidify in her mind.

"First, I command you to undress. Next you will lie on the bed on your back to await _my_ pleasure. Disobey me and there shall be consequences, pet. And you wouldn't want that, would you? You want to claim your reward as well, right?"

"Yes Mistress, if it pleases you."

"Very good, you're such a quick study."

Alice followed orders, and soon Isabella found herself presented with a truly lovely sight, that of her sweet angel lying bare on her bed, smiling at her in a most beautiful manner. She stood there in awe before she found the words to speak, to go on.

"Show me where he touched you," Isabella commanded, although she already well knew where he'd taken her. The girl moved her legs apart ever so slightly, and gestured at her pussy. Bella smiled, and instructed her further. "I want you to touch yourself there; it will give Mistress great pleasure to watch you."

Wide-eyed, Alice looked back at her as if to say, _Really? Like that?_ Isabella merely nodded and took a seat on the fainting couch, her skirt pulled up over her hips to make copying her pet's motions easier. Her eyes were half-hooded with lust as she watched her pet trail a finger down to her cunt, rubbing it gently up and down the slit before plunging the finger inside herself. Isabella mirrored her, and upon finding one was not enough, she slipped in a second finger.

_Oh god...yes_, Isabella thought to herself as she felt a delicious pressure build up between her thighs. Steadily she grew warmer and warmer still as she continued to finger herself, struggling to keep her eyes open and on Alice.

And then she let go, juices running over her hand as she came down, breathing hard but satisfied for now. Her darling pet however had not reached that glorious point. And she was being such a good pet too... mayhap she deserved a little something special.

Isabella got up and crossed back over to the bed on Alice's side. "Open," she ordered, "but don't stop doing what you are."

The girl opened her mouth tentatively, and Bella slid her two fingers inside, looking significantly at her pet. Realizing what Mistress wanted, the girl began to gently lick and suck on the fingers offered her, until they were completely clean. Bella shivered slightly at the motion of it, and couldn't help but wonder how that'd feel somewhere else. Especially with a nice, warm, tongue. She could almost feel the ecstasy building up in her, and she knew that had to be soon.

Bella didn't remove her fingers, but spoke to her pet again. "I want you to add a third finger. I want to watch you with three fingers."

She obeyed, and soon her pet's breaths came harder, and her eyes rolled back in her head, signaling her release. Bella watched her, completely engrossed with her moaning, the face she made, and the flush that overcame her cheeks. Never had she spied a more beautiful creature, nor one she loved more.

Alice lay back after it was over, panting slightly as she looked over at Isabella as if searching for more instruction. Isabella did not respond in words, but leaned down to touch her lips to her lover's, gently it was done. She placed a few more soft kisses on her face after the first, but then she wished to go on. She kissed back down her pet's body, reaching her shapely legs a few seconds later.

Isabella kissed the inside of her thigh, lightly running her teeth over the tender flesh. Alice's pants grew heavier as she drew nearer her pussy, which was soaked with the desire Isabella had inflicted upon her. "Oh pet," Bella sighed... "you are so wet for me. For only _me_."'

Smiling deviously, she lowered her head and lapped at her slit with soft, rhythmic motions before plunging her tongue inside her lover's pussy. The girl moaned rather unabashedly, and tried to hold Isabella's head there by entangling her fingers in her hair. This only made Bella pull back though, looking stern. "No pet, I did not say you could do that, did I?"

"No..." the girl panted out, "No Mistress you didn't."

"Tsk, tsk pet. You shall have to be punished now. Turn around so that I may spank you."

Alice obeyed, turning her body around so that her cute little ass faced Isabella, whose eyes were practically glazed over at the prospect. Feeling heat pool at her center, she tried to control her breathing as she raised one hand, and brought it down, smacking one cheek. Her pet jumped slightly, but made no other sound.

"Very good, my sweet. You take your punishment so well."

She struck her again, a whit harder this time. A little wetness ran down her pet's thighs, and Isabella took a little on one finger, bringing it up to taste it. "Pet, you taste wonderful. I should like very much to taste you more. Lie on your back, and spread your legs wide for me. Do it now," she commanded imperiously.

And like always, with love in her heart, Alice did what she was told.

* * *

_~Holding Cell, Tower of London, London.~_

"So you truly loved her," the scribe mused. "Even though such things are unheard of."

"They are unheard of, I fear, because no one has the courage to speak of them to others. Of course, take my situation. I did speak of it, and my husband has had me sentenced to death. A mighty useful deterrent for such gossips, don't you think, Mister Cullen?" Isabella stated.

"Aye, Lady, I do. But you still speak even now, rather...again, to me. Where hath you found the steel to do that?"

"Edward...might I call you that?"

"Yes, of course," he encouraged her.

"Well Edward, one gains much courage to live when one knows they are to die shortly. It is as simple as that. What can I do to harm my person anymore? I am to be burnt like some witch tomorrow, so why _not_ speak of it to someone else, if only to not let the story die!" Isabella explained vehemently, her eyes glinting in the half-light.

"I see, Lady."

"Call me Bella. I rather like you, and well, my final moments I do not wish to be spent in the usual propriety. Manners do not matter when you are as close to the grave as I myself am. Someday, hopefully many, many years past now, you shall understand me, Edward."

"Perhaps I will, madam."

"Bella," she reinforced.

"Bella," he acquiesced, not quite meeting her eyes. He was sad for this poor, beautiful creature, whose only crime had been loving another. It didn't seem just to punish her for such a thing, and Edward would not punish her for anything less than a truly heinous crime. She seemed so…innocent. But not shy, she had just about disbarred that word from ever describing her. However, she was not a witch, not a criminal by any means.

"You are very handsome for a man, Edward," she stated plainly, her eyes looking him over again. "Are you married? Betrothed perhaps?"

"No, Bella, I am not. I've no interest in marrying thus far."

"Thus far? Have you changed your mind then?" she inquired curiously, not a whit shy about it either.

"You are a very beautiful woman, Duchess," he remarked, lowering his eyes to the floor in a show of some modesty. It was a bold thing to say, and he hoped she would not take any offence at it.

"Edward, I do believe I asked you to call me by my name. My title is well and useless about now, do you not agree?" she attempted to confirm.

"I suppose so, Bella."

"Good, then we be on the same page. And as for that, I thank you. Alas though, I've heard it so many times over the years that it ceases to bear the weight it should on my mind. Is there anything else about me you admire, perhaps?"

"Well, the courage is certainly admirable, and your spirit is quite…addicting. You are to die on the morrow, and yet you are so full of life now," he explained.

"The trick is, Edward, is that it is on the morrow I shall die and not this very moment. I shall save any downtrodden emotions 'till then, and no sooner."

"'Tis a very good trick then," he said. She smiled demurely at him, but mischief was hinted at in her beautiful doe's eyes.

"Mister Cullen, have you written down all I have told you?"

"Yes, Bella, I have."

"Well then, we are left with some extra time. Whatever shall we do to occupy ourselves?"

"Your Grace..." he murmured, unsure of what games she was playing with him.

"I should like very much to kiss you, Edward. Might I?" Isabella inquired, her eyes now boring into his. He eyed her tentatively, noting how her lower lip, fuller than the top one, jutted out like a small child's, begging. He sighed as if in defeat, and she beamed, taking the time to let her hair down. It flowed out around her face, thick and surely soft. The colour was a deep, chocolate brown with subtle red tints. It lay slightly curly, and he decided it suited her very much indeed.

She beckoned to him and he complied, only pausing to set down his writing supplies before going over to her where she was seated upon her pallet. She looked up at him, her expression sensuous and her lips ever so slightly parted. Finally he could not bear it. He leant down, his fingers tangling in her hair, feeling the velvety quality at last, but more pleasurably his lips crashed against her small, sweet mouth, to which she granted him access almost straight off. Their tongues tangled, and very soon he felt her tugging at his shoulders, drawing him on the bed beside her.

He let her.

* * *

_~Tower Exterior, London.~_

Edward Cullen was for once his life, a very confused and despondent man. Well, truthfully the latter applied to him from time to time, but usually confusion was not his lot. He was a very astute man, but even he could not make sense of this particular situation, or what he could do about it.

He'd been let out by the bailiff Kent just a short while ago, and now he was out of the Tower altogether, the written story Isabella had told him stored in the bag on his horse's saddle. Even without the record though, Edward very much doubted he would have ever forgotten the beautiful, spirited Duchess. He had 'known' her before he left, at her urging.

"Edward please, it is my very last wish!" she'd cajoled him, her hands a vice grip on him as he attempted to leave the bed on which they had been laying, kissing and caressing for several minute's time. Her 'wish' had left him conflicted. For one thing it seemed very wrong to take her, and on the other, it seemed practically sacrilegious not to. It was her wish, and in his heart, he desired her. Not in a purely lustful way, though her actions did make his blood boil and his heart beat quick pace. He loved her, even in the short time in which they had known each other. And most of all, he did want for her to die… especially not by burning. If she must, he wished the swiftest and least painful sentence upon her.

But for now he somewhat contented himself with riding down the road, trying to erase any negative thoughts in his mind. His steed, Dorian, trotted along at a comfortable place, slow and steady. For a while he did not come cross a single living soul. He was not alarmed by this; it was rather late and most would be inside their own homes, perhaps eating with their family or even sleeping. He himself had no family, and was an orphan. Edward had been alone for many years of his existence now, save for the occasional company of drinking friends and the comforts of wenches at a pub here and there. Still, it was very lonely being him.

He continued down the road, and had not gotten much further when he sighted someone.

A knight perhaps, tall and blonde astride a roan-coloured-steed. The knight's jaw looked set, grim as he drew nearer, and Edward wondered what he was about at this hour. Weren't the knights usual carousing in their lord's halls by this time of evening?

The knight upon spotting Edward urged his horse forward, aiming to speak with him. When they were in close proximity, the knight halted his mount, and began to speak.

"Come ye from the Tower?" the knight inquired.

"Aye, I do," Edward answered, reining in his horse to a stop like his conversation partner.

"Have ye any word of the Duchess of Northumberland? If so, pray do tell."

"Who wants to know?" Edward asked first.

"Sir Jasper Whitlock, former knight of the Duke."

"Well then, I might say her spirit is not broken, but she I think inwardly is not completely resigned to her fate. She is such a loving creature, and very much for this world. I am blessed to have known her. Though, I do pity her sentence. She's afraid of the fires you see."

"She is that, and more. My lady love, she hath sent me on an errand for the Duchess, namely to try and rescue her if I get the chance. I have resigned myself to try or either perish in the attempt. It is unjust, what the Duke has given her up to," the knight explained.

"Sir Whitlock, surely you do not mean what I think you do," Edward said, his demeanour awry as he stared up at the knight. "It cannot be done. Ye gods if I thought I could, I would save her myself! But you're utterly mad, there is no way you'll be able to accomplish this daring feat. Not this time. I beseech you, go back to your lady, and tell her you were not successful... she could hardly blame you!" he finished, gesturing violently.

"My lady would not be pleased to hear such news, that I have not even attempted that what she asks of me," Jasper informed him.

"Well then, good sir, how _do_ you propose going about this glorious rescue?"

"I hath people, accomplices if you will. They hath paved the way for me. The wood upon which they shall attempt to kindle shall be rendered useless, dipped in water before being brought to the platform. The executioners shall have to procure more, and it is then that I shall ride in, and pluck her from danger's arms."

"And the lout himself, the lighter of the fire, what shall you do about him? And the guards at the base of the platform? What of them then, Sir?" Edward listed off on his fingers, the plan seeming less and less plausible with each addition. "It is surely a suicidal mission, that which you seem to want to partake in. You have not completely thought this out, and it shall be your ultimate undoing!"

"What does your sage mind suggest then?" the knight asked sarcastically, challenging him.

Edward ran his fingers through his hair as he often did in times of stress. He grimaced slightly, pacing back and forth, desperately thinking...plotting. It would take naught but a mad plan to succeed in a venture such as this, and by God, he thought he had it!

"Sir, might you have a sword, a dagger even that I might borrow for the time being? For I think that together, you and I may have better success!" Edward exclaimed suddenly, the plan rapidly fixing his mind.

"What be your plan, good Scribe? For I am all ears!"

"We shall keep your plan, but add to it some. Find us a wench to distract the lighter. You and I shall handle the guards; we shall dispatch them, and then ride off with all haste! What thinks you of this plan?"

"I think it may just work," Jasper murmured. "Either way, we shall go on with it! Then we four shall go South, where it is much safer."

"Well yes, there's that. But come, we must get ready, for she's up to burn on the morrow!"

* * *

_~Tower Green, Tower of London, London.~_

It was a dour sort of day when the Duchess was to be executed. Edward was not sorry for this, as he would not have the sun shine on such a black, foul day. He and Jasper were just biding their time in the crowd. There was always a bloody crowd when there was to be an execution, and Edward realised that only know he despised that. Let the dying die in peace, for fuck's sake! Don't stand there, cheering and taunting them like a wild animal. It was completely uncivil, this form of entertainment.

However, so far it was going as they'd planned. The crowd was bored at the moment, and that was because the kindle for the burning's fire had proved to be impotent. The Duchess was already in place for the execution though, tied to the burning stake, her eyes closed and her lips moving furiously. Edward doubted the lady was praying, but rather trying to calm herself. It pained him to see her up there, on display and clearly suffering for it.

_Soon Bella...._

To the side of the platform he could see the would be lighter, cavorting with a bold blonde wench whose curvaceous charm seemed to be working damned miracles on the bloke. He was easily led inside the nearest doorway, whereupon Edward was certain he'd get a good bonking for his trouble. For who denied a lovely blonde wench? Not the lighter, apparently.

Once the lighter was out of the way, it came time for him and the knight to carry out their end. Two guards, one for each of them as it went, were standing at the base of the steps to the platform, hands at their sides, ever ready to snatch upon their daggers. Jasper and Edward were not worried about the crowd so much. The bastards were loyal to none in particular, and so long as there was some visceral entertainment upon which their eyes might feast, they were well and satisified.

After making eye contact with another, the two men advanced slowly, picking and pushing their way through the crowd, threatening to dirk those who would get in their way. That threat seemed to hang well, as they soon found themselves near the platform and their intended targets.

"Be forward with them?" Edward inquired quietly before they made their move.

"Why the fuck not?" Jasper answered, shrugging.

So, using the straightforward tactic, both drew their longswords from the scabbards in which the weapons were housed, and sallied forward. Edward, being fairly inexperienced in the fine art of swordplay, went for the obvious kill, a dirk through the heart. The guard feinted to the right though, and Edward was left swiping at thin air. The crowd, catching on, began to generate an encouraging sort of chatter, along the lines of "Kill the pigs!" or "Dirk the knaves!"

The boys were only too willing to follow those particular orders, but in the name of saving the Duchess, naturally.

"Edward, no, you have to swing sooner!" yelled Isabella from where she was tied, calling out instructions as her recent lover and one of the guards circled each other, both with swords out and duty in their hearts which they felt compelled to fight for.

After a few more failed swipes at the cold English air, Edward began to take her up on her suggestions, striking sooner and drawing blood. The guard in question ended up with a not-too-pretty knick across the cheek on first blow, but his brief howling was silenced when Edward found the weakness in his garb and impaled his sword through the fool's chest.

Sparing a quick glance at Jasper, who seemed to be faring better with the fighting than himself, Edward then turned to the most important task of all. He ran over to the stake, drawing his dirk as he went. It was tedious work, but slowly he hacked through the bonds on his lady, and then helped her set foot on the platform. By then the good Sir Whitlock had dispatched his guard, and the crowd was well and riled up about it. Vultures....

The three fugitives then ran with all haste to outside the Tower walls, where the mens' horses were waiting, tied to a post. Isabella prided herself on only tripping once during the escape attempt, and that time it was really only a half-fall, as Edward caught her before she could fall on her delectable bottom. When they reached said noble steeds, she mounted up behind Edward, clinging her arms around his waist like a cat trying to avoid being thrown in a pond.

Jasper's horse led the way, and it was a dizzying pace they set for a while, until they calmed a little and decided not to work the horses too hard, lest they drop dead of exhaustion. At that point, they slowed considerably, and Bella started asking questions.

"Jasper, why did you come back to save me?"

"Because Alice asked me to, you ought to know that I do most of what I do because of her," he said, and she merely nodded, confirming that she did in fact know of this trait of his.

"So she still cares for me?"

"Very much so."

"And are you bitter for that, good Sir?" Bella inquired, "And please do be truthful."

"Not really, Isabella, for I know that she loves me as well, and that love is quite great. Our Alice has a very big heart, and there is room in it for us both. I do imagine yours is the same, seeing as how close you and Edward are?" Jasper suggested.

"How'd you know?"

"The attraction nearly radiates off you both," the knight answered simply. "How could one not know?"

And they left it at that.

By the time they drew to the end of their journey, the three were well and spent, however much they gloried in the success of their rescue mission. The knight led them to the outskirts of town, where he said they might make their escape fully. Once close to where he'd indicated, they dismounted and the men led the horses along slowly, the former Duchess walking in front of them, her head held high, her expression hopeful.

Waiting for her at the edge of the trees was a most loving angel, her dearest pet, her Alice. For but a moment it was them and no one else. Isabella fisted her skirts in her hands so that she might run better, and she prayed that she did not stumble this time. It seemed to take forever, but her angel met her halfway, blue eyes and brown meeting each other, filled with tears of reunion. They embraced each other, Alice laying her head against Isabella's chest.

How very permanent it felt.

* * *

**Author's Note: I was going to make it an unhappy ending at first, but Bella beseeched me not to. So there you hath a reunion and lovers back in each other's arms, albeit in the presence of other lovers, their men folk. Hopefully this is good enough for ye. Come to think of it, too many medieval films/books may have produced this piece. Eh, well I like it. Review and tell me what you thought, should I continue and make this a story? What would you have them do on their journey? Do you have a better title for the story? Let me know.**


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